


Master of Potions (And Me)

by gryffindorcutie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Hogwarts Professors, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Reader is not impressed by Harry Potter, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorcutie/pseuds/gryffindorcutie
Summary: You fantasize about your potions professor for years, not knowing he's a Legilimens.  At the end of your seventh year, you find your fantasies becoming reality. (18+ student/teacher)(Rated Explicit for future chapters)
Relationships: Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape/Reader
Comments: 65
Kudos: 337





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alma_Rohe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alma_Rohe/gifts).



> request from @Alma_Rohe <3

All bloody day you had been forced to listen to the excited, annoying chatter about the Boy Who Lived. Apparently, he was in Gryffindor and the same year as you. It’s all anyone could talk about since you had gotten off the train and well, it was a bit annoying now. 

As you sat in your very first potions lesson at Hogwarts, it was clear who your favorite teacher would be. Tall and pale, with a hooked nose. You thought he looked princely. Shiny black hair, a deep drawling voice, and the sassiest wit you had ever heard… Oh Professor Snape. 

He quickly shut everyone up about stupid Potter, and you adored him for it.

The idiot boy didn’t know anything about magic, and he spent most of first year making accusations about your favorite professor. Harry wasn’t even particularly quiet about his hatred of him. No wonder Snape always singled the boy out in class. You admired Professor Snape so much for it, well, for everything he did. 

It was your best kept secret that you had a bit of a crush on your professor. When his rare words of praise fell upon your ears, you would feel a warmth in your chest that blossomed all day long. You find yourself smiling more on days where you had Potions. You fancied yourself his favorite student, though he gave no indication of that being true. 

Slowly, as the years went by, you grew more and more infatuated with him.

Occasionally you would steal longing glances at him in the great hall while you ate. Once he even met your eye too, making you blush... But then he simply arched an eyebrow in your direction, silently ordering you to look away. You complied. 

You would do anything to be a good student for him.

Things became a bit complicated, however, when in fourth year, your indifference to Harry Potter seemed to inspire some sort of unrequited crush on you. The Potter boy always hovered around you, asking you to be partners in class, asking you to watch his quidditch matches…

Ugh! So annoying. Horny, hormonal teenagers. You didn’t understand them. He probably didn’t even like you. He just wanted to do something idiotic like get butterbeers in Hogsmeade with his gang of popular students. Was that considered a date nowadays? Maybe romance was truly dead.

Potions is your only solace as the boys and girls around you completely lose their minds--falling over each other that year. Like everyone just woke up one day and realized that sex is a thing. No one really held your attention at school… No one your age at least. 

The only person you would give yourself to… well he would never be interested anyway. So you focused on your schoolwork.

While everyone was worried about who they would go with to the upcoming ball, you were worried about mastering amortentia. Maybe then Professor Snape would offer you private tutoring-- something you overheard he did back in first year. 

But Harry Potter threw a wrench in your plans. He was always pissing the professor off just when you had worked up the courage to ask for private lessons. Harry was nice enough, but he was just always in the way.

The one and only time you agreed to partnering with Potter in potions was a huge mistake. 

First of all, he wouldn’t stop chatting with his friends while Professor Snape was talking. Then, he chopped his wormwood all wrong. And finally, he seemed to have a staring problem.

Harry and his friends goofed off while you worked diligently, hoping to make Professor Snape see what a hard worker you were. But no, Harry just had to have a macho pissing contest with Draco, so you ended the day with your carefully crafted potion all over your uniform and a week's worth of detention.

Luckily, you were separated from the boys. Professor Snape assigned you to scrubbing cauldrons and sorting supplies.

While you scrubbed, he sat at his desk. Internally you sighed, wondering if he would ever forgive you for being a part of the day’s disaster. You didn’t get much opportunity to talk to him one on one, and you doubted that detention was a good time to ask for private tutoring. There went your entire year’s work. Thanks a lot, Potter.

What was mild annoyance was now full-fledged hatred. Stupid, arrogant Harry Potter.

You looked up from your stack of cauldrons and saw Snape was writing at his desk. His silky black hair fell in his face a bit. You wondered if it was soft to the touch. You wondered what kind of shampoo he used. An image of your favorite professor in the shower flashed through your mind and his dark gaze snapped up to yours. You looked away immediately, feeling shame in being caught staring.

You flushed, feeling grateful that at least he didn’t know what you had been thinking of. You scrubbed the rest of the cauldrons in silence.

The fantasies never went away, though. Not in fifth year when the Order took down Voldemort and your dear professor Snape was revealed to be a hero. A spy working secretly against Voldemort. The villain had risen from the dead, only to be swiftly taken down by the man of your dreams. He had been weakened by the destruction of horcruxes, sure, but you knew how much of a valiant war hero your teacher truly was. 

Knowing your dear professor had been a part of it only made him more dreamy in your eyes.

Once an avid student, now you were even more obsessed with making him proud. You weren’t a showy know-it-all like Granger, but you made sure you knew the textbook cover to cover in case he ever called on you. Slowly, Professor Snape began to take notice of your hard work, and would commend you for your efforts. It was never wordy, but even a short praise meant the whole world to you.

His “Adequate.” was like a gold trophy. Hearing “Well done… Y/N.” was like being handed the sweetest smelling flower. And his dark eyes that twinkled when they looked at you….

Now he was haunting your dreams. You had dreams of him holding you, kissing you, touching your body. He was so reserved and strict that you wondered if he already had a wife. He didn’t seem the type to gossip about his personal life.

You didn’t think you had a shot in your dreams, much less reality with a man like Severus Snape.

But that all changed in spring of your seventh year. And again, it all started with Harry fucking Potter. 

The hype had died down about him since the order took out Voldemort for the second time-this time for good. Now Harry was just a normal boy, not as big as a celebrity as before. His head was still big as ever, though, and his personality still as arrogant. He asks you out nearly every weekend, and every time you turn him down without pity.

At the end of potions one day, Potter corners you in the back of the classroom.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleads with wide green eyes. “Are you ever going to forgive me for what happened fourth year?”

You arch your brow. “Not likely, Potter.”

Harry clutches his chest, playfully. “I’m wounded. We’ve been classmates for seven years, Y/N. Why don’t you call me Harry?”

Professor Snape is at his desk, probably waiting for you two to leave. He meets your eye for a brief moment and then looks away. You push past Harry, annoyed. 

“Because we aren’t friends.” You snap.

Harry grabs your wrist, turning you to look back at him.

“Fine. I’d really like us to be more than friends anyway.” He tells you, looking into your eyes with a flirty smile. “Come on, I know I joke around, but I really do like you. Haven’t you ever thought about me that way?”

You sigh, thinking of your hopeless crush on your teacher. 

“No. I haven’t ever thought about you that way.” You tell Harry truthfully. He just wasn’t your type. Why was he so persistent?

“Well who is he then?” Harry huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “I see that look in your eyes all the time like you’re thinking about someone.”

You flush, glancing to your teacher again who is now watching the two of your interact, his expression unreadable. 

“It’s none of your business, Potter.” You say matter-of-factly. 

He scoffs. “Fine, have it your way.” And then he leaves you, knocking your book on the ground as he storms past. 

You sigh, bending over to pick it up. What an arrogant prick.

“His father was just as arrogant.” The deliciously deep voice of your professor makes you jump slightly.

It was almost as if he had read your mind, calling him arrogant like that. You exhale in amusement. Yeah, right.

“Was he really?” You walk over to the professor’s desk slowly.

He smirks, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Oh, yes…” He says, trailing off.

You sigh. “I bet you ran in different crowds, then. I can’t see you as friends with anyone arrogant as Potter.” 

You imagine him as the dark brooding loner type, but with a sunshine-y friend that made him smile a lot. At least, you hoped he had someone like that. In your fantasies, you were even the one who made him smile.

“No…” He laughs humorlessly. “I wasn’t friends with James Potter.”

You are about to speak again when he arches an eyebrow up at you.

“Is there a reason you’re here, Y/N?”

You beam at him. You just enjoying being around him, but he doesn’t need to know that. It was just a hopeless schoolgirl crush anway.

You scramble to make something up on the spot.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you about my plans for after Hogwarts… I, er, was wondering if I could get a letter of recommendation from you?”

He narrows his eyes at you. You explain how you want to be able to help nurses and mediwitches in hospitals by brewing medical potions, and how they only accept apprentices that come by high recommendation. He listens patiently eyeing you with curiosity, and then when you’re done excitedly word-vomiting, he beckons you to walk around to his side of the desk.

He holds out his hand, and you scramble for a quill and paper.

“What are you doing silly girl?” He asks, smirking, “Give me your hand.”

“Oh,” You flush, looking down. “Right.” As if you understand what he would possibly want your hand for.

You place your hand in his open, waiting palm. As your skin touches his, your heart flutters. Butterflies go crazy, dancing in your belly as you meet his eyes.

“You want to be a potions master?” He asks, looking down at you. He’s so tall. You’ve never stood so close to him. It’s entrancing. “Is that really what you want to use these soft little hands for?”

Your eyebrows draw together, as if you’re imagining how his thumb caresses your hand. Are you imagining this? The feeling of his hand in yours… wait… was that an innuendo?

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “I suppose it was.”

Your eyes go wide and your jaw drops. It was almost as if he had answered your inner thoughts.

He chuckles, “Indeed, Miss Y/N. I was answering your silent question.”

You gulp, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’re a Legilimens?” You gasp.

Don’t think about your sex dreams about him. Don’t think about them. Shit. You’re thinking about it.

His eyes continue to twinkle, and his lips twitch upwards. All the while, his hand holds yours.

“I must admit,” He says in that delicious baritone, “your thoughts are a great deal more creative than the other students in your class, Y/N.”

“Sorry!” You flush, “I didn’t know that you could…” 

Oh Merlin, how many times had you fantasized so desperately about touching his hair in the past seven years. 

“A great deal.” He answers, smirking. “Do you still want to know what it feels like?” He asks you softly.

You nod, both mortified and morbidly curious. He lifts your hand that’s in his up to his head and tugs you closer. You whimper at the feeling of his body pressed to yours. He’s surprisingly firm. Silently you wonder what kind of physique he has buried under all of those layers.

“Naughty girl.” He playfully admonishes you, looking silently amused. 

You flush. How did you already forget about his gift? Merlin, this was embarrassing.

Still, he lets you caress his silky raven locks and twist them around your fingers. Up close, he smells spicy and musky mixed with ink and fresh parchment. It’s intoxicating.

Your eyes meet his and you feel his hand at your waist. Your heart flutters again, and you feel a flood of warmth at your core.

“It’s so silky.” You say, gulping. The air felt thick down here in the dungeons.

“Is it?” He purrs. “I use a bit of potion in my shampoo. It’s a… special blend. Would you like to see it?”

Is he offering to take you to his shower? Or to see the shampoo he makes…?

“Both.” He rolls the word off of his tongue seductively.

Your blush deepens an impossible shade of scarlet. “Oh, Professor, I don’t know...”

“Really.” He arches an eyebrow. “You don’t know… Funnily enough there is much you don’t know, Y/N”

You swallow your dry throat. “Like what?”  
He chuckles darkly. 

“You don’t know... the day after you first dreamed of me fucking you… I had to relieve myself in my office before I could continue class,” He continues, cupping your cheek in his hand. His tone sounds like he’s scolding you, but his eyes, his touch... they say otherwise. You lean into his touch.

“And you don’t know...” He says deliciously low, “How every time you denied Potter’s feelings so openly, you left me uncomfortably aroused in the middle of class. And you certainly don’t know that your little pleated skirt hasn’t fit you properly in three bloody years. Whenever you bend over to search for ingredients by my desk, I get quite a lovely view of your little panties and your round little ass. No, you wouldn’t know that... would you?”

“I…” You trail off as his thumb brushes over your lips. His voice has gone straight to your cunt, which is undoubtedly dripping at his dirty words.

“You also don’t know how Potter has been daydreaming all the different ways he wants to ‘pop your cherry’,.” He says, “The foul, crude thoughts he has about fucking you hard on one of the tables in my classroom have me feeling... particularly murderous.”

You gasp.

“But then, you don’t want him, Miss Y/N, do you?” He purrs,

“No, I want you professor.” You admit softly.

He smiles slyly. “Do you want to come upstairs to my quarters?”

You can only nod, held captive under whatever spell his dark eyes hold you in.

“Come then.” He says softly as he interlocks his fingers with yours, “Shall we explore some of those fantasies of yours?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4.3k words and it's all smut, my friends.

As you step out of the classroom, Professor Snape flourishes his wand towards the door, which audibly locks shut. Something about watching your tall, handsome professor use nonverbal magic makes you even more eager to go upstairs with him. Everything he does is so effortlessly cool.

His dark, sensual eyes bore into yours for a moment as he smirks. He leads you by your intertwined fingers down the corridor until you reach the main staircase.

“Follow closely, Miss, Y/N.” His deep voice commands softly, letting your hand go. 

As you walk past a group of students, you feel secretly delighted that they have no idea what’s going on between you two. They probably think you’re in trouble, being led to your punishment. That, or they are mocking you for being the teacher’s pet.

_Oh, if they only knew._

Your professor leads you through the hallways to a side of the castle that you’ve never seen before. His black cloak billows dramatically as he takes a sharp turn. You follow closely behind his long, steady strides, eager to arrive at your destination and at last be alone with him. Your body is buzzing with excitement from being in his arms, having his filthy words wind your core tightly in anticipation. 

At last he slows at the end of the corridor, arriving in front of a large black iron door. This time, he doesn’t even use his wand, but there’s a flash of yellow light as the door opens. He takes a look over his shoulder before ushering your inside. His hand guides your by your lower back into the large room. 

It’s dark, dim as his classroom. There are lots of books on the shelf by the luxurious leather couch. It smells of sandalwood and old books, as well as… is it an earthy pipe tobacco? Or maybe it’s coffee. Something rich and fragrant that you can’t quite place. There’s a small kitchen in the far end of the room, and it’s clean and simple. There’s also a staircase to a second level. You wonder what’s up there.

“My bedroom.” He answers, following your gaze. “Do you… wish to see it?”

You smile timidly, “Yes, professor.”

He looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, both hands going to your waist as he pulls your body closer. 

“So eager.” He says, each word enunciated deliciously in his deep voice. “Hmm. I think I know just what you need. A lesson in patience, perhaps...? But first, tell me what you wish to have from me.”

Some men had low voices, but your professor had the deepest and most delicious frequency of sound in his vocal chords that you had ever heard. But what he’s asking for… you flush. _Does he really expect you to tell him so openly?_

“Don’t be shy... what fantasy is on your mind right now, hmm?”

You flush, knowing your inner thoughts are unbidden and on display for him to read. _Surely he already knows. He must._

“Ahhh.” His eyebrows raise. “Do you really find my clothing so interesting? Curious girl.” He takes your hand again and leads you up the stairs.

You wonder how he will begin. Will he really do as you think he will? Or does he want something else.

“Worry not, Miss Y/N.” He says without soaring you a backwards glance. “I have plans for you.”

His words do nothing to still your pounding heartbeat or lessen the dripping desire at your core. Instead, this further ignites the most primal urges in you. You are so relieved that he has decided to take the lead. You are so ready for this. 

You walk into his bedroom and are pleasantly surprised to find it simply decorated and uncluttered. As you trail your fingertips across his dark wooden dresser, you discover a portrait of a younger version of him, smiling next to a red-headed girl. You want to tell him how adorable he was as a kid, but you somehow pick up on his discomfort with you touching the photo. So you keep your thoughts to yourself-- as much as you can, anyway. 

As his gaze is diverted, you sit on his bed, forgoing permission. It just looks so cozy, you can’t help yourself. His eyes quickly hone in on you, and go hooded. Knowing that you have his attention, you let yourself fall back against the mattress, feet dangling. This mattress is so soft. It’s lush and comfortable, and it carries the spicy, musky scent of him on the sheets. 

“Hmm.” You sigh. “This is much better than the beds we have. I could stay here for hours.” You smile up at him.

And he only arches his brow, looking unimpressed. Hurriedly, you sit back up.

“Is there something wrong, professor?” You give him a wide-eyed look. _Had you crossed some sort of boundary? Wasn’t that what you were here for?_

He takes one measured step towards you, his long pale fingertips at his shoulders as he removes his cape. You bite your lip, watching the action intently. His hands are so elegant and still so manly. Oh, the talented work you’ve seen him do with those fingers. Your mind drifts to thoughts of what else those fingers can do. He undoes the final clasp, meeting your gaze. Then in a flourish his cape ends up on the mattress beside you. 

“So you tell me you want to be a potions master.” His voice gives you chills. He’s using the subtly different tone of voice that is usually reserved for dimwits like Harry Potter, never you. “But you have no… discipline.”

You gulp, swallowing the dryness in your mouth. 

“If you want a recommendation letter from me... “ He takes a step forward, and then another. “Then you will need to prove your… competency. Do I make myself clear?”

You nod, but it isn't the answer he’s looking for. He arches an eyebrow at you. 

“Y-yes, professor!” 

He stands before you, towering over where you sit on his bed. He holds out a hand, and you eagerly take it. He helps you up to your feet. You stand facing his broad chest, and you can’t quite meet his eyes. You bite your lip, wondering what you did wrong.

His wonderfully long and skillful fingers lift your chin, turning your face upwards. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze.

“Silly girl.” He says, “You have done nothing wrong… yet.”

You exhale, eyes dropping back to his chest. “Yet, professor?” 

Your eyes follow the neat trail of black buttons that extend all the way from from his throat to his pelvis, where his shirt is tucked into his pants. So many buttons. Your fingertips twitch at your side, itching to reach up and touch them, pull them loose…

“If you want my approval,” He says, knuckles brushing against the skin of your cheek, “If you want my… recommendation… I need to test your abilities.”

“O-okay.” You answer. You’re lost, though. _What did this have to do with your sinful fantasies about him? Did he change his mind?_

The corners of his lips twitch upwards. 

“Miss, Y/N, what is the first step to making a potion?” He asks you, pushing your hair from where it had fallen into your face. He tucks the loose strands behind your ears, and your breath hitches as his fingers brush down your throat before falling away.

“Er, preparing the ingredients?” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“Very good.” He says, taking your hands in his, caressing them slowly. His calloused fingertips send sparks along your skin, making your heart hammer in anticipation. “And what is the first step of preparing the ingredients?”

“Is it gathering them, sir?” It seems like elementary knowledge and you know that you should be certain of your answer, but he intimidates you so much. You are eager to please him in any way you can. This feels like a quiz, and you desperately don’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“Excellent.” He says. “And if we… you and I... were to make a potion together, what ingredients would you like to use, hmm?”

“I…” You trail off as his hands lift and guide yours to his shirt collar. 

_Ohhhh. So this little pop quiz is all just innuendo._ You exhale, relieving some of the tension in your shoulders. He nods in response to your thoughts as they come to this conclusion, a proud smile on his lips.

“Well,” You say, mustering your confidence again. “I believe the potion would only require two ingredients, sir. Your body…” You trail your fingertips down his firm torso. “...And mine.”

“Good.” He says, giving you a knowing smirk. “Now then, how should we prepare our ingredients?”

You tap your lip playfully as if you have to think about it. “Well first we would need to unwrap the ingredients… maybe wash them, too?”

He nods, eyes going hooded as they travel your figure. “Indeed.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by your professor.

“Go on.” He tells you, and you need no further coercion.

You relish in the rise and fall of his chest as you slowly unbutton his top shirt. There must be at least twenty buttons, but you don’t mind. Each dips lower and lower to the prize you can’t wait to discover at the end. You push the open shirt over his shoulders, and he helps you shrug it off. 

Next is his white undershirt, which you push upwards, and he lifts it over his head, unveiling the expanse of his torso. Your dear professor is broad shouldered, with lean and defined muscles. No flab, just all pale, tight skin over his muscles. _Fucking gorgeous and so… manly._ Not like the scrawny, hairless teenage boys you’ve seen shirtless before. You can’t get enough of the sight of him. Maybe you’ve always been into older men... or maybe it’s just because it’s him.

On his left wrist is the dark mark, the magical tattoo of Voldemort’s followers. He had been forced to take it during the first war. It’s hard to think of all the pain and suffering this man must have endured before you were even born.

You frown, taking the wrist tenderly between your hands.

“Did it hurt?” You ask.

His eyes soften as they look down to your doe-eyed expression.

“No, not really.” He says, though it’s mostly to reassure you, that much you know without legilimency. Magical tattoos are even more painful than muggle ones, that’s what many people say.

You reach your timid hands to his chest, where you find some sparse dark hair. His nipples are hardened from the cool air, and as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his defined muscles ripple. 

“Mmm.” You hum in approval. A living work of art, your potions professor is.

He arches an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, sorry professor.” You smile deviously. “I’m just appreciating... such a high quality ingredient.”

And then you continue, trailing the soft trail of hair and the v-shaped indent of his hips as you finally reach the top of his trousers. Patiently, he watches you unbutton his pants and then tug on them. His boxers slide down with them as you kneel to push them down all the way. From the floor, you’re finally met with the magnificent sight of his cock. It’s half-hard already, but as you lick your lips and admire it from below, it twitches upward. 

As you stand back up, your eyes are still glued to his member, which now stands at full attention. Is it even possible to fit that inside of you? He chuckles at your slack-jawed expression, bringing your hand forward to touch it. His large, talented hand covers yours as you squeeze it lightly, pumping the skin up and down. He eventually lets go, and you work the long, girthy shaft up and down on your own. He groans deeply, and the sound is music to your ears. 

It really was true what they said about wands and hands being indicators of size for… other things. You can’t really get your little hands around him fully, he’s that thick.

You pump him in awe, watching as the plump mushroom head of his perfect rosy-tinged cock slides in and out of your grasp. A vein stems up the shaft, looking extra, well… lickable. You wonder how he tastes, and think of dropping back to your knees to find out, but he grunts, taking your hand away.

“Very good, Miss Y/N.” He says hoarsely, making his deep voice sound even sexier. “But we have yet to prepare the other half of our potion’s ingredients. As will do well to remember, potion making is an art that requires...patience.”

You pout, nodding. It was like he took away your new toy. But still, there was more to experience, and he was right. _Patience is required to make the perfect potion._ You reach up to your collar to undo your tie, but his voice stops you.

“I believe, Miss Y/N,” He says stepping towards you, “That I should be the one to unwrap this ingredient.”

You grin, dropping your hands eagerly. “Yes, sir.” _Anything for you, sir._

His lips twitch upwards again, and you flush… It would take time to get used to the fact that he could hear your thoughts.

“Don’t be ashamed,” He tells you as his perfect fingers undo your tie and he tosses it onto the bed. “I find your thoughts most… endearing.”

You smile at his praise, watching his hands unbutton your blouse and tug it out from your skirt. As he pushes the shirt off, you resist the urge to cover up your chest.

Then his hands are on your hips and he unzips your skirt, pushing it down until it falls to the floor. You step out of it, and with a gesture of his elegant finger, it flies into a neat pile on the bed. It was just like your favorite professor to not want to make a mess.

He kneels before you and removes your shoes, then your knee socks. Your breath hitches as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“A perfect ingredient… _indeed_ ” 

Next your bra and panties are expertly discarded with his skillful hands and you are finally bare before him. You look down, nervous about how he perceives your nakedness, but he steers your doubt away-- taking your hands in his. His eyes go impossibly darker as he looks over your naked body in appreciation.

“Perfect.” He says again, and despite any insecurity you may have, you’re inclined to believe his words. Your professor was not one for frivolous words, and he rarely dealt out praise. So if he says so... He really finds you attractive. The man you’ve been dreaming of for years wants you too.

Part of you wonders if you’re dreaming as he takes your hand and leads you to the shower. It’s a huge stone tiled shower with a massive showerhead up above. A glass sliding door opens and you find several bottles and a long handled scrubber. He starts the water and then turns back to you--

“Let’s have a wash shall we?”

You smile and nod, and he takes your hand and gently pulls you under the immediately warm water. _Oh, the perks of magic._ Under the generously sized stream of water, you are both engulfed by the warmth of the water as it streams down your bodies. 

His hair gets slicked to his forehead under the weight of the water, and you can’t help but think he looks even more incredibly handsome like this, that his dark eyes are even more enticing. Timidly, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing your body to his.

His cock twitches firmly against your stomach as he takes your face between both hands and leans down. His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your face to grant him access to your lips. But he just leaves you hanging, pulling back for a moment to examine your face up close.

“Lovely.” He says.

And then his lips crash into yours, _it’s so... good._ His kiss makes your chest feel warm and your head feel fuzzy. You meet his lips eagerly like you can’t get enough of them, especially as his skillful hands begin to explore the curves of your body. You wrap your hands around his neck as he pushes you back against the wall. Your hands explore his skin, landing on his defined chest for support as he kisses you dizzy.

Then, without warning, he releases you. You look up at him, dazed and pouting-- but he merely moves to grab a bottle behind him. Then you understand, and you feel your core stir in anticipation. 

“Patience… Miss Y/N. You were curious about my shampoo…” He says, “ _Were you not?_ Well let’s see how those soft little hands prepare our... ingredients. I expect you to wash them very thoroughly, Miss Y/N.”

You grin, “Yes, Professor.” 

You pour some of the shampoo into your palm and he leans down to grant you access, placing his hands on either side of you. He’s both caging you in and surrendering himself to your touch. 

Oh, how this very scenario has been in your dreams, a regular reason you woke up with the urge to touch yourself. Your brain almost short-circuits at the idea of this fantasy finally being a real life situation. Your dreamy, dark and brooding professor was pressed against you, open to receiving your touches. 

You couldn’t wait for him to claim you and take you. _Would he do it here in the shower?_ Your thighs rub together at the thought. He says nothing, but his eyes twinkle, looking you over as if he’s wondering the same thing. No, patience. You would have him soon enough.

You massage his scalp, lathering the amber, teakwood scented shampoo into his raven locks. He hums into your touch, eyes falling closed as you scratch lightly at the base of his neck. You feel like you could do this for an hour, but he hands you another bottle, pulling away to rinse. You forget to read the next bottle as you openly ogle your professor, watching as the suds of his shampoo slide down the rivets of water on his body. 

He returns the favor, washing your hair with your back pressed against his front, and you feel his cock nuzzling itself against your plump rear end. You let out a soft moan, grinding back against him.

“Not. Yet. Miss Y/N” He growls lowly into your ear. Despite his words, he bends you forward under the stream to rinse your hair, grinding his cock into your ass.

Then he stands back, and you weakly follow, legs feeling a bit wobbly. If just rubbing him made you feel like this, you could only imagine what he would feel like inside you. _Would it hurt?_

“Read... the bottle.” He pants, clearly just as affected as you are. 

The bottle label is handwritten in cursive. _Oh! It’s his handwriting._

“Is this…?” _Is it something he made himself?_

“Yes…it is. A special concoction I invented.” He answers, lifting an eyebrow to dare your response. 

As if you held anything other than immense admiration for the man in front of you. He even makes his own bath products, and they smell incredible. Will he let you use it on him?

“Go on…” He tells you. “This body wash… has special properties.”

“Oh?” You eye the bottle again in curiosity, deciding you want to see what it does. You pop the cap and drop a small amount on your palms.

“Start by washing yourself first..” He tells you, and you eagerly oblige.

You start at your arms, then rub down your chest in slow circles. His eyes follow your movements, and his hand drops to his groin, taking those elegant fingers and wrapping around his impressive girth. He strokes himself while watching you. 

And then you feel it, the warm surge of pleasure and desire thrumming inside you. Every touch intensifies as you slide the washcloth down your stomach and between your thighs. He watches you hungrily all the while, and you make sure to give him a show. 

You don’t know how he manages to stay so composed and patient. All you can think about is having that glorious cock inside you, filling you to the brim. The feeling is overwhelming. The warm water and the soft ministrations of your hands are making you feel more turned on than you’ve ever felt. 

“This wash has… aphrodisiac qualities, Miss Y/N. It possesses the power to heighten pleasurable touches, and reduce pain.” He tells you, still fisting his cock. “Now come and wash me so we can get on to the next step.”

Your chest rises and falls with effort as he beckons you over and you wash him. As the last sud of soap falls into the drain, he turns the water off and wraps you in a towel. 

You and him both dry off and you try to absorb as much of the water from your hair as you can. Then you drop the towel to the floor as he stalks forward and claims your mouth with a searing, passionate kiss. He picks you up, gripping your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Now the final step, putting our ingredients… together.” He tells you.

His words make you shiver in his arms. He carries you over to his bed and lays you down on the mattress. He comes to kneel between your legs, and his thick cock rests on your mound. You should be nervous, but you only feel the deep arousal that he’s been drawing out of you for the last hour. 

_Was this what the body wash did?_

He nods. “It removes the pain from the pleasure… so you might enjoy your first time, much better.”

You smile, lifting up to kiss him. “How very thoughtful of you, professor.”

“Hmm.” He smiles against your lips. “Now what to do about finishing our potion.”

His cock is in his hand now, rubbing the head along your dripping petals. You gasp, writhing beneath him.

“Mmm, _please professor._ ” You needed him inside you. You needed him to take you ruthlessly, to watch him come undone in pleasure. “Put it inside me.”

“You want your teacher to fuck you, Miss Y/N.” He asks you, “You want me to fuck your tight little cunt?”

You nod eagerly. “Please, professor. Yes.”

He chuckles. “As you wish.”

You feel the pressure of his invasion, sinking the tip inside you. You breathe heavy, feeling him inch by inch. Slowly, he sinks inside of you, but you feel no pain. Just delicious fullness. His eyes roll back, falling shut as he fully buries himself to the hilt.

Your walls clench and squeeze his massive cock, adjusting to the intrusion. 

He groans deeply. You wonder briefly if he feels okay.

“So _good_ , Y/N.” He tells you, his voice doing things to you while his cock is buried deep inside you. “So tight and perfect for your teacher’s cock, aren’t you?” He draws his hips back, and moves inside you. Immediately, you feel the desire twisting into flutters of pleasure.

He ruts his hips forward, and you moan as he fills you again. You gasp, gripping his back as he begins to thrust slowly in and out of you. You feel his thrusts with no pain, just hot, pulsing pleasure. 

Each time he withdraws, your body silently begs for him to plunge back inside of you. This is better than any dream you’ve had. Your body thrums and takes his cock without protest. Each drag of his cock in and out of your walls has you keening your hips up to meet his.

“More professor, _please._ ” You plead.

“As you wish.” He leans down to kiss you, claiming your mouth with a chaste peck before he begins hammering into you faster. Your legs wrap around his hips to grant him better access. He grunts, and drives himself harder and deeper into your cunt. 

Between your cries of pleasure, there’s lewd wet squishing sounds as your desire drips out of you, onto his cock. He thrusts sharply into you, drawing out a loud cry from your lips.

“You like that, Y/N?” He grunts, enunciating each word with a thrust.  
“Take it. All. of. it. We do need to mix our ingredients very thoroughly, don’t we?” 

Your pussy clenches around him at his words. He grunts, withdrawing from you. You whimper at the loss briefly before he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your hips upwards. You’re sprawled on your hands and knees as he ruts back into you. This position allows him to drive deep and hard into you. Waves of pleasure make your legs tremble as he takes his pleasure from you. 

“You like being used by your teacher, do you?” He asks, but you can only moan as your cunt clenches and chokes his throbbing shaft. He grips your hips hard and smacks your ass as he slams into you without ceasing.

You feel like you’re on the edge of the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt. If he keeps up this pace, you're gonna explode.

“Oh, professor!” You cry, tensing as he slams mercilessly into you.

“That’s it. _Good girl._ Let go.” 

He ruts into you with renewed force, and it finally hits you. Your orgasm tears through you, legs shaking and toes curling as you grab onto the mattress. You’re crying out in pure bliss as he pounds into you, riding you through the waves of your pleasure. He grunts, thrusts growing sloppy as he fills you with his seed. He stills, panting for a moment before he pulls out, wandlessly vanishing the mess on the sheets.

Together you collapse onto the mattress, and he pulls you into his arms. 

“Very good, Miss Y/N. You’ve almost earned my recommendation.” His deep soothes you.

Your head is still dizzy from your high, your body still buzzing with pleasure. You snuggle against him, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around you.

“Almost, professor?” You ask breathlessly.

He smirks down at you, and the look in his eyes says it all. This is only the beginning. _There are plenty of fantasies yet to be explored, after all..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should I continue or leave it here?
> 
> let me know what you think.  
> 💕
> 
> UPDATE: I have decided to leave this story here, but I have more Snape/reader in the works over in my collection titled "Harry Potter Imagines" which you can find listed under my works. thanks for reading <333

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I would ever write a Snape fic, but here we are.
> 
> let me know what you think <333


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